Poetry – For the birds

Let’s take a walk

down Memory Lane

to the second

Bush-Cheney administration

my brother and I

had been chilling

in his flat in North West

then I drove him

to his graveyard shift at the news bureau in Dupont

when all traffic was shut down

so a convoy of 40 SUVs and motorcycles

could make its way to the Cheney residence

We rolled down the windows

and raised our fists high

and raised our middle fingers

that much higher

our wholesome gesture reaching for the heavens

the universal symbol for:

“This is ME saying something

and this is YOU having to listen.”

with the help of street lamps we saw

through the obsidian jeep windows

machine gun nozzles

pointing—not resting

My body was just

one vast artery

pumping blood like an

industrial turbine just

to keep me from freezing

or collapsing

bones, muscles, energy

failed me one and all

so I remained intact

from sheer blood pressure

like an irate moon bounce

giving the bird to the vice president.

by Catherine Sawers